9 Days
by SylvanDaggers
Summary: Captured by the marines and thrown into the deepest pit Impel Down could offer, Portages D. Ace is counting down the days till his execution. But he isn't counting alone.
1. Potter

a/n: Hey, guys! It's been a really long time, and I'm finally getting around to posting some content again. School is picking up, so I can't promise updates for my other works, but this story should have consistent updates. I hope you all are having a wonderful year so far, and I hope you enjoy the story!

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**Nearly Three Decades Ago, On an Unknown Island:**

"Something's going to happen."

Roger looked up from his sake. "Harry?" But Harry continued to stare into the distance.

Twenty years of knowing the man, becoming pirate king, and discovering how to listen to the Story in All Things, and Roger had yet to put a finger on exactly who—or maybe even what—Harry was. Old; yes. Powerful; oh you better bet he could have taken the title of Pirate King for himself if he had half a mind for it. But purposeful? The man didn't poses a dream—at least not in a conventional sense. He seemed to ache with all the sorrows of the world, wandering from sea to sea in search of something never voiced, much less found. But Harry still continued on. A dream to find a dream then. Roger could understand that much, but it was never a good sign when Harry had a vision. By the look on the man's face, this newest glimpse of the future would be important.

"A world in flames becomes the ashes of a Phoenix only if there is something worth returning to." Harry stared down at his hands. "Trembling and cracking perceptions of reality, blood and heat that rips through flame. Rubber can only stretch so far before it snaps."

"When." War was coming. That much was clear. If the vision was close enough to get a date, Roger could prepare them for—

"Years." Harry shook his head, part in denial and part to clear his thoughts. "Decades from now, Roger."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

Harry cocked his head, "There's…" the man shot to his feet, a smile on his lips and a spark in his eye that Roger had never seen before. "I'm going to Impel Down."

Roger nodded, "Yes, I can see how that would…WHAT?!"

**Day 1: Potter**

**(Present Day)**

The world was…cold. Much colder than it should be. Darker too.

"Kid."

Ace shifted at the voice, and something clinked against his wrists. His body was heavy, heavy in more ways than being flesh instead of flame. His bones had turned to lead beneath his skin. He was drowning on land. Drowning in dark and cold and chains and confusion because this couldn't be Pop's ship because it was never this quiet—

"Hey, kid."

—and besides he had left weeks ago against Pop's orders because he had a responsibility to Thatch to kill Teach and then Teach had threatened Luffy and he couldn't let anyone hurt Luffy, not his little brother—

"Listen, kid, I understand if you wanna keep muttering and shaking, but I'm trying to get some sleep here."

Ace blinked, and the world around him became lighter. Now that his eyes were open, he saw blue-grey stone walls on three sides, penning him behind a row of thick, stone bars. A cell.

Ace's mind snapped into focus. Impel Down. The Prison of Hell. One of the only places on the seas where he knew no one would come for him. But they would later. As much as Ace simultaneously dreaded and loved the fact, there was no doubt his family would storm Marineford itself to stop his…to stop him from being…

"Great. Silent shaking. You're moving up in the world, kid. I swear if you're like this all the time I'm going to—"

"Shut up!" Ace shouted, turning his head to face the far-too-positive voice. "Who the hell are you?"

It was a man—late twenties, maybe early thirties—with tangled black hair falling onto a bare, chalk-pale chest. He had high cheek bones, well-defined muscles, and black jeans ending in polished leather boots—if it hadn't been for his green eyes underlined by dark bags, the man could have passed for Hawk-guy's brother. Well, the eyes and the brand. A circle within a triangle, both bisected by a thick line, was burned into the center of his chest.

The man raised a manacled hand—sea stone, no doubt like Ace's own, yet attached to the floor rather than the wall—and pointed to his mouth. What was he…? Oh, great. He was stuck with a smart-ass. "If I ask you a question you don't need to shut up."

"My apologies." The voice caught and stuttered over an underused throat. It didn't sound apologetic in the least. "Some people take things too literally around here."

"Yeah, I can tell. Who are you."

The man rolled his eyes and leaned against the cell wall at his back, "You in a hurry, kid? We don't keep very strict schedules around here."

There was no use in hiding it. The man would find out soon anyways, though it came as a small surprise that he hadn't already. "I've got an execution scheduled in nine days."

The atmosphere in the cell shifted instantly. "That changes things." Any signs of amusement or apathy had fled from the man's face, and only burning green eyes remained. "Harry Potter. Most just use 'Potter'."

Ace just nodded. Neither man would be offering handshakes any time soon. "Portgas D. Ace."

Potter's eyebrows raised slightly at the mention of D, but any sign of…recognition? Surprise? disappeared in an instant. "Welcome to Impel Down."


	2. Hallows

a/n: Here we go! The next update won't be posted so quickly (I just thought that the first chapter looked mighty lonely). Thank you for all who have read and reviewed so far—comments and constructive feedback are appreciated!

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**Day 2: Hallows**

Potter didn't wear the same clothes as the other prisoners. At first, Ace thought it must have been because he wasn't going to be staying long enough to be fitted for a uniform—a fellow execution buddy. But no, the man knew the inner workings of the prison better than the back of his hand, and not even a genius would know some of the things he was telling Ace without a significant amount of time.

"Sure, you could take the creatures in Beast Hell without a problem," Potter said, shifting his head on the length of manacle chain he was using as a pillow. "But with those sea stone cuffs on you won't be making it past the wolves in Freezing Hell, so it's a bit of a moot point."

"Whose side are you on?" huffed Ace. He would have liked to cross his arms, but he would have to make do until he could figure a way to detach his chains from the wall.

"Yours, kid. Yours." Potter assured with a lazy wave of his hand, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Funny way of showing it. Ever heard of encouragement?"

"I don't encourage suicide." Potter yawned, "Just think of it as constructive criticism."

Ace rolled his eyes and returned to plotting his escape. Tricking the guards into unlocking the cell was out—Potter said only wardens held the keys. The stairs and elevators were also impassible, seeing as both were (apparently, according to Potter again) constantly and intensely monitored for all activity. There would be no digging his way out either, not with a sea-water moat flooding the space between the cell and prison walls, that, one guess who told him…Potter.

"…what if I provoked—"

"What did I say about encouraging suicide?" Potter interrupted.

"You didn't even hear what I was going to say!"

"I didn't need to."

Ace grumbled under his breath and rolled his shoulders. The blood from his fight with Teach had gone from sticky to irritatingly itchy, especially since his chains made it impossible to scratch away the red flakes. Did prisoners get baths here? He wasn't one for extremely cleanliness, but he would kill for a bath. Even the puddles from the steadily-dripping ceiling looked tempting.

"Has anyone ever started a riot?"

Potter snorted. _Snorted_. "Look around you. This place is packed with pirates and rebels, the least law-abiding people on the seas, and yet they haven't seriously challenged the system. It would take something major to move them, kid. I don't think you're it."

Ace hated to admit that Potter was right, but the other inmates looked only slightly more willing to break out than Potter did. He slumped down in his chains and ran an eye over his cellmate. It was easy to tell a pirate from a civilian—easier still from a marine—but from a rebel? Looks weren't enough. Pirates and rebels often switched sides, and there was no specific body type for any one group. No, rebels stood apart with their ideals, just like pirates stood apart with their conviction, and Potter was too tired for either.

"So, which one were you?"

"Pardon?"

"Pirate or rebel?"

"Pirate."

Ace nodded as if it made perfect sense, despite it not making any sense and being an overall useless gesture with Potter's eyes closed. Maybe Potter had been someone to fear earlier in life—the man was in Impel Down for heaven's sakes—but Ace couldn't match the image of an aggressive, vibrant, passionate pirate with the epitome of passivity in chains before him. He waited for Potter to elaborate, but the other prisoner merely fiddled with a link of chain on the floor.

"Is that what the brand is? Your jolly roger?" Like Pop's flag inked onto his back, the strange geometric brand centered on Potter's chest had to mean something.

At the mention of the brand, Potter's eyes flashed open. He watched Ace without answering, head cocked to the side as a low hum rumbled in his throat. "So you're a D after all. I had wondered."

Ace bristled at the sudden change in tone, "What's that supposed to mean?" It had always bugged him—the reaction his middle name received whenever it was mentioned. Until coming to the Grand Line, it hadn't seemed like anything other than perfectly ordinary. After all, half of everyone he knew had a "D" for their middle name—Luffy, Gramps, his mother, and…well, his birth father also fell into that category, but Ace rarely felt like including him.

Potter continued to stare, and Ace waited for what was sure to be a condescending lecture. All he got was a shrug, "Nothing or everything. I'm not sure if anyone knows now. Everyone I've asked could never offer more than a guess. The only thing I'm certain of is that no one without a D has ever been able to see the Hallows."

"Hallows? Not a jolly roger then."

"No," Potter agreed. "More like…a reminder." A hand unconsciously drifted up to trace the lines of the brand. "Death and power do not give meaning to life, and I bear the Hallows as a reminder to any who can see them."

Ace would have pressed further, _wanted_ to press further, but Potter shook his head. The man's tired eyes were not quite demanding but clearly stating that the discussion was closed. For now.

Ace tried to be quiet after that. Potter was more bear than human when woken up from a nap before he was good and ready, and Ace would rather not spend his last days being shredded by his razor-sharp tongue. So Ace tried to be quiet. He tried to sleep and tried to count the dripping water. He tried to summon his devil fruit powers and tried to use Haki to break the manacles. He attempted to itch behind his ear and spent ages peering beyond the cell to watch a centipede crawl across the hallway.

After an eternity of silence, Ace opened his mouth to speak—

"Shut up."

"I haven't even said anything!"

Ace could read the glare Potter sent him clearly enough: _What did I just say?_

"I just wanted to ask a question." Ace grumbled.

With a drawn-out sigh, Potter pushed himself into a sitting position. "Oh, just a question. 'Not talking', he says. 'Just a question', he says." Potter sighed again—something Ace was coming to discover occurred just as often as breathing for the other man—and laced his fingers under his chin, "Ask it then."

He was giving in that easily? "Right, um, why are you wearing pants?"

Potter blinked, long and slow, one eyebrow rising.

"I mean," Ace tried again, "Everyone wears prison uniforms except for us, and I can understand why they wouldn't bother with me but if you're here long term…?"

Potter hummed, "Take a guess."

"It's probably…" Ace scrabbled for possible reasons, and his mind latched onto their previous bit of conversation, "probably….because they're invisible like your brand and the guards don't even notice them?"

Potter choked, eyes blown wide with surprise. "What—? Why—? The hell—?" His hands made half-aborted gestures of confusion in the air as he struggled to string together a coherent thought.

_Wrong part of the conversation. Wrong part. Wrong part. Wrong part._ "Sorry! I just thought that maybe…but apparently not…?"

"No!" Potter shook his head violently, "You thought I would just sit here starkers in a prison cell?"

"Weird things happen in the Grad Line!"

"Not men with selectively-invisible pants!"

"You'd be surprised."

"The bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Why do you have them, then?"

"Pants? Why do I have _pants?"_

"No, not 'pants;' _those _pants."

"These pants."

Ace nodded.

"I like them."

"That's it?"

Potter shrugged, "I have an agreement with the Warden that I won't touch his pants if he doesn't touch mine."

"…you realize that sounds just as weird as selectively invisible—"

"Shut up."

* * *

**Day 3: Garp**

Ace hated it. He hated his chains. He hated the way his arms trembled from strain above his head. He hated his cell. He hated the absolute helplessness in which he found himself every waking moment.

He hated that, even now, Gramps was watching out for him.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Had he been stupid enough to say it out loud? But no, he had been biting his lips, sealing his mouth closed before the words clawing at his throat could escape. It had been his face, then. Could the old man read him so well?

"Whitebeard won't stop if you die. Nothing can prevent the war now. We've angered the king of the sea." Garp mused, his face solid and solemn and nothing like the old man who chased them through the jungle back on the island. "I spoke to Luffy about his father. He seemed most surprised at the idea he had one."

Ace couldn't help his slight smile at the thought of his brother. "Of course he would—neither of us care about stuff like that. You should have known our blood would never let us become marines, old man." Garp muttered his usual dismissal, but it wasn't as strong as it once was, probably because soon there would be no chance for Ace to even switch sides. "I owe That Man nothing, and I take my name from my mother, to whom I owe a great debt."

"You can't just deny—"

"Whitebeard…" Ace's mind flashed back to the thousands of brothers and memories he had gained during his time on the Moby Dick. "Whitebeard is my only father!"

Muttering from the corner made both men jump and turn towards the source. Ace had completely forgotten Potter's presence. It looked as though the conversation hadn't woken him up though, for which Ace was grateful. It had been hard enough talking to Garp without an audience, and he had already come dangerously close to spilling everything to Potter the previous day.

"Who…?" Garp squinted and leaned forward to get a closer look at the man sharing Ace's cell. He blinked, and before Ace knew it Garp was roaring with laughter. "Bwa-ha-ha-haaa! They stuck you with old man Potter?"

"Who are you calling old, kid?" Potter's rasping voice was layered with irritation at the rude awakening.

Garp laughed, "Who are you calling kid, old man?"

"You two…know each other?"

Both Potter and Garp blinked, broken out of their familiar banter by Ace's reminder of their surroundings. Potter shook his head and gestured to Garp with a manacled hand, "The hell are you doing here, kid?"

"What, I can't come and see my own grandson?" The cell bars forced Garp to abort his movement to slap Ace on the shoulder, but the strange look on his face remained. It took Ace a moment to place it—it was hard to believe that even now Garp would be proud of him.

Potter choked, eyes wide, "The kid had a kid…" Green eyes turned warily to Ace, "…who had a kid?"

"Of course I did!" Garp said with another round of guffaws, "But Ace here's adopted."

"Thank Merlin. Who knows if the seas would be able to survive another young Monkey." Potter sagged against the wall with a sigh…before straightening again almost immediately, "Wait, did you say you _do _have one?!"

Garp grinned from cheek to cheek, "My little Luffy has potential like you wouldn't believe, old man. He would have made a damn fine marine." The grin faded, "Curse that Shanks for making pirates look cool."

"Shanks?" Potter leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. "That little ankle biter is still sailing?"

Garp laughed, "He's grown to be a real pain in the ass with his own ship and crew. You should get out more, old man—the world's moving on without you."

Potter hummed noncommittally, "Been there, done that. I'm busy at the moment."

Ace looked back and forth between Gramps and Potter. They had obviously known each other for years, which wouldn't technically be impossible, but for Potter to have known Shanks as a child and still look as young as he did…"How old are you?"

Garp's eyes were suddenly glued to the ceiling, lips whistling what the old man probably considered an innocent tune while his hand waved in denial. "No…um…we just call the old ma—I mean Potter—an old man because…because he acts like a grumpy old man all the time?"

Potter sighed at the poor attempt at lying and waved at Garp to stop, "He already knows about the Mark. Though I should say that _someone_" Garp shivered at the glare sent his way, "has done a shoddy job of explaining a certain middle initial."

Garp muttered something about "other stuff to do" and "all technicalities really," as Potter shifted to face Ace. Potter remained silent for a moment, hand hovering over the brand on his chest—_Hallows,_ Ace corrected.

"I don't know. My age, that is." Potter finally admitted. "But I've come to figure out my birthdate roughly coincides with the end of the Void Century.

Ace looked to Garp, who understood the confusion, "There's a gap in historical documentation, lost or hidden no one's sure, that historians call the Void Century," Garp supplied. "The first documents to come out of the blank spot were dated to…" The old marine glanced at Potter, who nodded his accent, "…to nearly 900 years ago."

Ace's jaw dropped, head swinging from Potter to Garp and back again. Surely they were kidding. Even on the Grand Line, surviving that long was just, just, just—

"Impossible?" Potter guessed. Damn his face! If Ace escaped, he was going to practice poker until no one could read him. "I would have thought so too. After so long alive, I've discovered there are some…_side effects_ to being the keeper of the Hallows." Potter looked away, rubbing the back of one hand. "Enhanced healing, a brand visible to the Clan of D, and a really _really_ long life span."

"Which the old man uses to mess with poor, innocent marines." Garp put in.

"Oh yes, because the poor, innocent marine saw nothing wrong with eating the last of my rations." In an instant, the sarcastic, lazy Potter Ace knew was back, and the solemn, burdened figure he had glimpsed disappeared.

"You didn't have to boot us off the ship!"

"What else would I—"

"Garp." They all looked up at the deep voice. Warden Magellan and a troop of guards stood at the end of the cell block, obviously staying back to respect Garp's privacy. "Visitation time is over."

Garp swallowed and nodded before pushing himself off the floor, griping softly about his knees not being what they used to.

"Get over it, kid."

"Not all of us can have baby knees, old man." Garp retorted as he turned away. He paused, not looking back. "Hey, old man." Potter grunted in acknowledgement, "Ace is a good kid."

Ace couldn't stop his quick intake of breath, but it seemed neither Potter nor Garp had noticed.

"If there's any way you could help—"

"There are a lot of good kids, Garp."

At the first mention of his name, Garp's shoulders sagged. "Yes, I suppose there are."

Potter let him get a few yards away before he spoke again, "Though I do tend to like the ones who piss off marines."

With a subtle bounce in his step, Garp rejoined Magellan's group of guards. The sound of boots on stone faded into the distance, and before long the cellblock had returned to its usual state of silence. Unlike usual, Potter made no move to return to his nap, instead staring after where the guards had disappeared as if he could still see them.

Garp seemed to have inspired a different mood in Potter. The man had been talking more, and this could be Ace's only chance to get more information about his cellmate. Ace bit his lip, debating if he should ask Potter the question he asked everyone eventually. He wondered if he'd get a different answer.

"Something on your mind, kid?"

Ace started, shaking his head, aborting the movement and going to nod his head, and ending up with something that resembled a sudden spasm more than a response. "No—yes—I mean maybe—"

Potter sighed, "Listen, kid. If my age and healing bother you that much, I won't mention them again."

"No that's not—" Deep breath. In and out. _Now_ ask, "What do you think about the pirate king?"

It took Potter a moment to think, having not expected the question, and Ace could see in his eyes when the other man put two and two together. Damn, was he really that obvious? He was ready. Ready for Potter to call him out, the devil spawn that even fellow pirates reviled.

Potter nodded, "Right, Garp was Roger's supposed arch-nemesis."

"…What?"

"That's why you brought it up, right? Garp doesn't seem so bad, so you were wondering what the Pirate King was like?"

"Um, yeah…" It was an unexpected out, and Ace wasn't about to pass it up. "'Supposed' arch-nemesis?"

"Those two fought like the devil for the same thing from opposite sides of the table." Something tugged at the corner of Potter's lips, curving the edges of his mouth up into the slightest smile as he spoke, "Same ideals, same respect, different methods. There has to be order and law, but we still need chaos and freedom—everything the Pirate King stood for—to do what is right when the law can't."

Ace leaned back. There were normally only the extremes: love the Pirate King or hate him. The way Potter thought, it wasn't that the Pirate King was good or evil, but…necessary? "I've never heard it like that. But if you knew Gramps, then did you know—?"

"Roger?" There was definitely a smile on Potter's face now, "Yes. He…helped me when no one else could, and no matter what I said or did he never let. He lived free and strong and was a better man than I could ever be. I just wish…"

"Yes?"

Potter looked away. "I've been in here a long time, kid. I wasn't there for the execution; and afterwards, when I heard Roger might have had a child…

"I failed him, being in here. I should have been— but I wasn't— and now I'm sitting in a cell, having thrown away everyone who helped me for a damn—!" Potter cut himself off, breathing hard with his fists clenched. Ace watched as Potter visibly forced himself to calm down, rolling his shoulders and pacing each breath. "Sorry."

"I asked."

"Not for my problems. For Roger." Potter shrugged, "For what it's worth, Roger was one of the best men I've known, and I wish the world could have seen it."

Well that was…unexpected. Ace let it all wash over him. The Pirate King. A good man. A great man. Someone who would hear and respect even loners like Potter. Someone even _Potter_ clearly saw as a friend. If they were all the same person, if Potter was telling the truth…maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be the son of that man. Certainly Ace would never be the son of the Pirate King—not with all the rumors and lies and hate attached to that title—but he could see himself as the son of the man who was Potter's friend.

And Potter had mentioned Ace. Well, he had mentioned a child, and he appeared to have no feeling other than regret? shame? that he wasn't there when Ace needed him.

Ace wanted to tell him, but his mouth wouldn't open and deep down in the part of his soul only Luffy had touched, Ace knew he wouldn't confess. But something else did come out.

"I'm adopted." Ace pushed on as Potter raised his head from his hands. "My father is Whitebeard now—the Strongest Man in the World. I have so many brothers and friends and we sail across the ocean as a _massive_ family! We fight and live and breath together, and no matter who we _were_, Pops always accepts us as his sons for who we _are!" _He picked up speed, rambling about Marco and Pops and the Moby Dick. Ace spoke about his new brothers and the different islands the Whitebeard Pirates called home.

Potter occasionally broke in to ask a question, and soon Ace was deep into the stories of his adventures with crews new and old. He almost slipped and mentioned Luffy (No, the marines could be listening, the marines can't know can't put him in danger). Luckily, he had just the story to push the conversation onto a different track.

Potter proved to be fascinated by Ace's description of the Flame Flame Fruit. They both loudly bemoaned the sea stone shackles that would never allow Ace to give a proper demonstration.

Hours passed with the two cellmates chatting amiably together, the prison having faded away before the golden glow of pleasant memories. It could not last. Potter's voice steadily deteriorated into a cracked whisper. He hadn't done nearly as much of the talking as Ace, but, as Potter explained, it had been _years _since he had spoken half as much in one sitting. They settled down, and for once Ace was actually ready to give the Potter Nap a try.

"Hey. Kid." Ace winced at the gritty quality of Potter's voice, but the man pushed on, "Why did you tell me that?"

"Needed something to pass the time."

The silence was telling.

"I was adopted." Ace repeated, "And…if I was alone and broken and still managed to find my brothers, well…maybe—maybe Roger's kid was able to find something like that too."

His eyes were closed. He couldn't bring himself to look Potter's direction. Ace could feel the man's stare all the same.

"…thanks, kid."


	3. Hunger

**Day 4:** **Hunger**

"Food!" The cry went up from cell to cell, heralding the approaching guards. It had been _days_ since Ace's last meal, and he couldn't help his stomach's small growl of anticipation. He had dialed back the amount he ate since leaving Dawn Island, but he still drifted towards Luffy levels on the eating spectrum.

The guards turned the corner into their cell block, and Ace watched as small loaves of bread and what might occasionally have been meat were tossed at inmates. He glanced over to where Potter was taking his usual morning nap. For a man that slept more than he was awake, it was strange to see perpetual dark bags under his eyes. If he hadn't witnessed Potter's sleeping habits, Ace would have labeled him an insomniac.

Ace could let him sleep—probably the wiser thing to do looking back on the other times he had interrupted the man's nap—but it had been four days since Ace had woken up in this cell, and he knew Potter hadn't received any food in that time either. "Wake up, Potter. Food."

"Tch," Potter frowned, "You think food is better than sleep?" But even as he said it, Potter pushed himself up into a sitting position with a yawn.

"You think sleep is better than food?" Ace threw back at him with a joking frown.

Potter snorted, "It is here. Don't defend it the food until you try it."

And then the guards were at the bars, one riffling through a deep burlap sack. "Orders?"

The other guard glanced down at a clipboard, "Usual for Potter. Nothing else."

Potter tensed in the corner of Ace's vision, but he didn't have time to wonder what had riled the former pirate before a dark rye loaf and several strips of jerky were thrown through the bars. Potter made no move to go for the food sitting just within reach.

"Tell Magellan I don't approve."

Both guards jumped at Potter's voice, and one grabbed for the sword at his waist. "Did Potter just—"

"Holy crap, I think he did." They glanced at each other, before the guard with the clipboard took a hesitant step towards the bars. "Um, did you say something, Potter-san?"

"Don't call him 'san,' idiot!" hissed the other guard. Ace's eyes narrowed as the pair began arguing over the proper way to address prisoners. Did they really fear Potter that much?

Potter glared, green eyes flaring, and both guards abruptly straightened. Ace couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the familiar feeling—Haki. "Shut up and tell Magellan I don't approve of his shitty orders."

"Yes, Potter-san!"

"Sorry, Potter-san!"

Skin pale and sweating, the guards nearly tripped over each other in their haste to escape. Potter watched them go, his glare following the guards' backs as they fled. It was only after the guards were out of sight that Potter moved, leaning forward to swipe up the food.

Ace groaned. "Crap." The guards had taken the bag of food with them. "Couldn't you have waited to scare them off?"

Potter shook his head. "It wouldn't have made a difference. They were ordered not to—" He paused, looking from Ace to the food and back again. With a long-suffering sigh, Potter held out the food. "…here."

Ace blanched, "I don't want you're food!"

"I'm not deaf, and your stomach doesn't lie."

As if on cue, Ace's stomach growled. _Traitor._ "Fine. I want it. I'm still not taking it."

"Yes you are." When Ace started to protest, a flick of Potter's wrist sent the loaf flying into Ace's mouth.

"Mmghf!"

"Just eat it, kid. I'm not hungry."

Seeing no other option, Ace settled for glaring at Potter as he chewed through the bread. It was awful—Potter had that part right—but it was food. He had thought he was hungry before, but now, after getting a taste? He was almost willing to break down and take the jerky Potter was shaking in his direction. Almost.

"I don't need your pity."

"Pity?" Potter adopted an exaggeratedly offended air, leaning back to scrutinize the meat in his hands. "And here I thought this was jerky."

"You know what I mean." He had expected something like this to happen once Potter knew about his scheduled execution. The only surprise was that it hadn't happened before now. "You haven't had any food either."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, sure, and I'm a sea king."

"I'm not."

"Mmhm. I believe you." Ace threw in a smirk for effect and it nearly became real when Potter's denial increased.

"Just eat the damn jerky, kid."

"I'm not taking a starving man's jerky."

"I'm not starving—"

"Oh, so I just imagined the last four days without food. Good to know—"

"I don't need to eat!"

"And I hope bullshit isn't contagious—"

Black. Like usual, sleep had come without warning, and Ace was stuck floating outside of consciousness until his traitorous body allowed him to return. He hadn't told Potter about the narcolepsy. Hopefully the sudden pass-out would freak the man out.

The light was coming back now. Three…two…one… "—but I'm not holding out much hope."

"Finally back?" Potter sat against the wall, elbows propped against the legs he had pulled up to his chest, staring at him with something Ace couldn't quite name. The jerky was nowhere to be seen. Potter could have eaten it…except for the lingering taste of stale, salted beef in Ace's mouth. Potter nodded as if he could hear his thoughts, "You chew in your sleep."

"You shouldn't have—"

"Hear me out." The dark circles under Potter's eyes had grown larger. How long had Ace been out? "This wasn't about pity. This was about giving you a chance."

Ace raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. There was little hope for escape, if that was what Potter was thinking. Where had the man who criticized his every suggested escape gone?

"Look, kid, the food was nothing. I don't actually need to eat much anymore, but I wasn't about to tell Magellan that."

_…__What? _Was that another part of the Hallows?

"Something's coming—I don't know what or why, but it is. Soon. I wish there was more I could do to help, but if—" Potter ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I've been waiting for a long time, kid, and if I play my cards now there's no going back."

"…waiting for what?" Ace met Potter's stare, neither man looking away as minutes passed. Eventually, Potter turned to the wall, laying down with his back to Ace, and the moment passed. Ace had assumed that was that until Potter's voice drifted out in a whisper.

"A sign."

The cell remained silent for hours. Ace watched Potter in silence, and Potter pretended to sleep.


	4. Jimbe

**Day 5: Jimbe**

"I spy…something grey."

"I'm not playing your game."

"I spy…something wet." Ace paused, waiting for a guess. "It starts with 'p' and ends in 'uddle'." Potter resolutely ignored him. "I spy…something green."

"Green?" It was a well-established fact that nothing grew down on Level 6, and Potter cracked his eyes open. "Where?"

Ace grinned and nodded towards him, "Would you look at that: the only green in a hundred feet decided to show."

"My eyes were closed," Huffed Potter, "It doesn't count as 'I Spy' if you can't actually see the object, dumbass."

"Got you to play, didn't it?"

Potter rolled his eyes and made to go back to sleep.

"Ooh, no." Ace scolded, "You've been napping for hours. I'm not letting you go back to sleep."

"You and what army," grumbled Potter.

At the words, a low rumbling began deep in the walls of the prison. Both inmates perked up, Potter even propping himself into a sitting position to get a better look down the hall. He shot Ace a look that forestalled any of his questions: this clearly wasn't a common occurrence if Potter didn't know what was happening.

As soon as the rumbling began, it stopped. Potter and Ace glanced at each other, even more wary now.

"Do you think—Shit!" Without warning, the chains securing Ace's limbs tightened, choking off his question and hoisting him roughly up the wall. The chill of sealstone burned against his ankles and wrists, but there was nothing Ace could do as he was forced into a spread-eagle position against the back of the cell. They hadn't even left him the dignity of having his feet on the ground.

A string of violent cursing echoed from the floor, which clued Ace in on Potter's similar state. Indeed, when he glanced down, it was to find Potter struggling futilely against his own chains which had forced him prostrate on to the ground. Even with the man's face pressed into the floor, Ace discovered Potter had no trouble articulating his displeasure. Of course, the scenario would have been far more amusing if Ace himself wasn't in similar straits. As it was, neither noticed the presence of their visitors until a new voice broke through the cursing.

"My guards said you were talking again." Magellan mused, "I almost didn't believe it."

Potter fell instantly silent, turning to pin the warden with a poisonous glare.

"No words for me?" Magellan shrugged, turning to the retinue of guards behind him. "No matter. Bring the prisoner!"

The guards shuffled forward, struggling to push their chain-wrapped burden towards the cell. Ace couldn't make out the newcomer's identity through the sack cinched over their head, only that they were big and beaten bloody under the layers of chain. Once the prisoner was close enough, a guard by the cell door held up a ring of key. The movement to open the cell was aborted, however, when Magellan stepped forward once more, his eyes fixed on Potter.

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it, Potter?"

What was the deal? Ace could understand being wary of Potter once you knew about the Hallows, but the guy didn't exactly scream "deadly powerful prisoner" when looking at him. It was like the entire prison walked on eggshells around the guy.

Potter's glare didn't lessen, but the warden took this non-response as confirmation, waving at the guard to open the cell. Ace watched, angry at being restrained but willing to sate his curiosity, as the unknown prisoner was dragged inside their cell. The guards secured the chains to the wall opposite Potter, keeping them wrapped around the figure instead of simply around the wrists and ankles. When all was said and done, the guards skittered out of the cell, the last one out pulling away the prisoner's hood. It was a fishman. One Ace knew personally.

"Jimbe?" Ace couldn't believe his eyes. Surely the he wasn't really there.

Jimbe looked up at him with tired eyes, "Ace."

No, no, no, no Jimbe _couldn't_ be here. He was a warlord! What did that mean for his brothers if Jimbe had been arrested? Had the fighting already happened?

Magellan and the guards left without another word, and the chains holding Ace slackened back to their original length. The instant Ace's feet touched the floor, the questions burst from his lips.

"What are you dong here? What's happening out there? Is Pops alright?"

"Ace, I'm sorry." Jimbe began, and Ace's mind dissolved into a panic. The fishman recognized the expression and immediately moved to explain, "No, they're alright. Everyone's fine. The government wanted me to fight in the coming war, and when I refused, they sent me here."

Ace felt his heart start beating again, "Oh." He straightened, "Wait, what about Fishman Island? What will happen now that you aren't a—"

"They haven't revoked my warlord status yet." Jimbe said with some relief.

"But the risk—"

"Was worth it. I am honor bound to help Whitebeard after all he did to liberate Fishman Island from the pirates and navy, never mind the friendship I share with you."

A cough cut into the conversation, Potter staring intently between Ace and Jimbe. "Did you say Fishman Island?"

Jimbe's glance at Ace was clear: _Is he an enemy?_

Ace shrugged: _Seems like an alright guy. For a lazy ass._

He wasn't sure if he managed to convey that last bit to the fishman, but considering neither had telepathic abilities he would take what he could get.

"Indeed. What is it to you?"

Potter ignored the question, "And the state of relations between fishmen and humans?"

Jimbe frowned and looked towards Ace again, but the young Fire Fist was just as curious to why Potter would ask as Potter was curious about the answer, "…Tenuous. However, things are nowhere near as bad as before Fisher Tiger stormed Marijois, not with Whitebeard placing the island under his protection."

Potter stared at Jimbe for many seconds, before releasing a drawn-out sigh, "Damn."

"Who are you?" Jimbe tried again.

"Looks like I owe Whitebeard a favor."

"Who are you?"

"Probably can't get out of here to thank him any time soon."

Ace's head swung between the rambling Potter and the mounting fury that was Jimbe. "Um, Potter…"

"Maybe if I—"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

Potter lurched back at the sudden shout, eyes wide, and it took him a moment to compose himself, "Ah, um, Harry Potter. Mostly go by 'Potter' around here."

Jimbe nodded politely, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jimbe—wait." He squinted at Potter, trying to place where he had heard that name before. Pale skin, green eyes, locked in the depths of Impel Down yet still on the Navy's watch list… "Magician Potter?!"

"Whoa." Potter whistled, "Haven't heard that name in years. Are they still calling me that?"

"Why are you here?"

"Obviously because it's a fun place to be." Potter quipped, "Did you seriously just ask why I'm hanging around in chains?"

"Magician Potter?" Ace cut in. He had never heard of a pirate by that name, but if he knew Roger, Shanks, _and_ Shitty Gramps, he had to have had some fame.

Potter waved his hands as if to clear away the fog of questions. "Yes, yes, tell you later. Back to the point—don't distract me this time, I need a nap." He pointed at Ace, "Kid, is this Whiteboard the father you told me about?"

Ace nodded readily, "The only one that matters," and Potter hummed thoughtfully, looking at his hands for a moment before flicking his gaze up to meet first Jimbe and then Ace.

"If you needed to…I could let you talk to him. Whitebeard, I mean."

Ace blinked at the sudden offer of help, "Why?"

Never mind the "how" of the equation; besides the food incident, Potter hadn't shown any sign of helping Ace win his freedom.

"Prison has kept me from many responsibilities." Potter slid closer to one of the puddles pooling on the cell floor, "If he helped Fishman Island, I owe him a great debt." He stopped moving, one hand hovering over the stagnant prison water, "I take it you want me to try?"

"Hell yes!"

Potter gave a short nod and began waving his hand above the largest puddle. Ace could see Potter's lips moving, but he had to concentrate before he could hear the faint whisper of words in a foreign tongue. After a few seconds, Ace could sense…_something_ in the air. It wasn't Haki, but it was a strange mix of energy and intent that _should _have come across as Haki, but instead felt unfamiliar.

"Whitebeard's full name?"

Curious as to why it was needed but not stupid enough to ask at that moment, Ace gave it to him. In return he received another brief nod before Potter returned to muttering and waving. Now that he had a name, it didn't take long for results; the water beneath Potter's had clouded, obscuring the prison floor before beginning to swirl with color. Ace and Jimbe unconsciously leaned forward to get a better look and watched as an image of a ship appeared in the puddle. Not just any ship.

"The Moby!"

Potter raised an eye at Ace's outburst, "I take it this is Whitebeard's ship, then?"

"The flagship." Ace confirmed. "Can you bring us closer?"

With a flick of Potter's wrist, the image swung closer to the ship, almost as if attached to a bird. It hovered uncertainly once on deck, oscillating between two doors, "I'll need you to tell me the way."

As Ace guided Potter through the ship, the cell around him seemed to fade. There were the men's quarters, where his brothers had spent hours laughing and joking before passing out every night. A few doors down was the room where everyone had freaked out the first time Ace's narcolepsy acted up since joining the Whitebeards. He could practically smell the scent of food drifting up from the kitchens on the floor below, and he could picture the trickle of people slowly filling the mess hall before lunch. Ace was walking through the Moby again, back from a mission and ready to report to Pops before hitting Thatch up for some food.

Then he turned a corner and came face-to-face with, "Marco!" Marco didn't look up at Ace's shout, didn't change his expression, didn't alter his brisk pace towards Pop's room. "The hell, man?" Ace reached forward to grab Marco's shoulder, but the seastone cuffs stopped him.

The cold of the metal on his skin broke Ace from the spell. He was in Impel down, in a cell, and it would be a miracle if he ever saw the Moby in person again. The image in the puddle was just that, an image, and the cuffs didn't matter because he couldn't reach Marco anyway.

Potter hadn't looked up, but the image had stopped moving, and Ace could sense the man's attention focused on him. "They can't hear or see us until I open the full connection, but I can only do it once. Is this who you wish to speak to?"

"No. Keep going." It was hardly a decision. Ace may have loved Marco like a brother, but Pops was Pops. If he only had one shot at this, he had to make it count.

They ended up following Marco through the rest of the ship to Pop's room. It was an unusual sight indeed to see Whitebeard without a nurse in sight. The Yonko was alone in the room, pouring over reports with a small army of Den Den Mushi clustered on every available surface.

Ace's mouth fell dry as Marco and Pops began discussing something. Supplies? Battle strategies? Ace couldn't tell what was actually spoken—his mind had gone curiously white now that he was actually here. It took several minutes before the shock faded enough for Ace to hear Potter's question.

"-ce, is this Whitebeard? Do you want me to connect? Ace. Ace, do you—"

"Yes." He managed to breath out.

Potter snapped his fingers, and the low murmur of discussion floated into the cell. Oh, so it hadn't been Ace spacing out before.

"Whitebeard, can you hear me?" Potter's voice had Pops and Marco instantly reaching for their weapons, eyes flicking around the room to find the source of the question.

It didn't take long for both men to locate Potter. Ace didn't know what they were seeing, but Marco's tone was threatening when he spoke, "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter." Marco didn't react to the name, but Ace throught he saw Pop's eyes widen.

"What do you want?"

"To thank you," Potter nodded his head towards Whitebeard, "For helping Fishman Island."

Marco squinted, suspicious, "That's old news. What are you really—"

Ace couldn't hold it back any longer, "Pops!"

"Ace?!" Marco reared back in surprise as Whitebeard leaned forward.

"You have five minutes." Potter said, scooting away to give Ace an unobscured view of the puddle.

Five minutes wasn't nearly enough time to say everything Ace needed to say. It wasn't enough time to thank them for even _half_ of the things he was thankful for, but Ace would do his best.

Pops and Marco derailed that train soon enough.

"Thanks?" Whitebeard rumbled with laughter, "You think we wants thanks, son? Tell us thanks when we get you home!" And from then on the conversation turned to the topic of escape and rescue, Ace forced to scour his brain for the smallest details about Impel Down and what he knew about the execution. Jimbe added his piece occasionally, but Potter stayed silent, observing their plans with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Ace." The time was up before he knew it, and Potter had his hand poised above the water when Whitebeard's tone changed, pitching down into seriousness, "I love you."

And then the puddle was just a puddle once more.


	5. Punishment

**Day 6: Punishment**

Ace drifted back to consciousness the next day to find Jimbe also blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're here." Ace admitted, rotating his shoulders as much as his chains would allow to relieve the cramps that had built up over night. He paused, realizing what that must have sounded like, "Not that I'm glad you're in prison. It's just that you'll be able to stay awake long enough for a conversation, unlike Potter…over…here…"

Ace trailed off. He had been in the process of jerking a thumb to where Potter was sleeping, except he couldn't exactly do that. Because Potter was gone.

"Where the hell did he go?!"

The man was nowhere to be seen. Not in the cell, not in the hall. Potter might as well have evaporated—his sealstone chains were lying on the floor—had there been any sign of the clothing Potter had been wearing. Unless Potter _had_ been lying about those pants…

No. Nope. Ace would not go down that path. He was _not _pathetic enough to go insane after less than a week in prison. Besides, Potter's boots were gone too.

A quick question to Jimbe confirmed that neither of them had heard any noises during the night. It was unfortunate, then, that their theories (Potter discovering a way to escape, Potter being dragged off by guards, Potter digging through the cell wall only to be drowned by seawater which melted him and his possession and left only the chains behind…) relied on large amounts of noise.

"Ace," Jimbe said sharply after a long stretch of silence, "Do you remember falling asleep?"

"Is it normal to?" Maybe he was wrong, but Ace had always thought people laid down to bed, closed their eyes, and then woke up in the morning. That's what he did, and he wasn't sure if he could ever pinpoint the exact moment he sailed off to dreamland.

"Not like that." Ace suspected that if Jimbe were a less disciplined person the fishman would be rolling his eyes, "Do you remember getting tired? Wanting to go to sleep? Drifting off?"

Ace thought for a moment and then shook his head. He had a suspicion he knew what Jimbe was getting at, "Do you?"

"No." Jimbe frowned, "We were drugged."

It made sense, but Ace wanted to know _why._ Why had they been drugged when Potter left, but not when Jimbe arrived? Why had they taken Potter in the first place?

"Jimbe…"

"I hear it."

After so long, there had been nothing to do but wait and see what happened. Now, hours after they had woken up, there was the faintest trace of either footsteps or voices; either way, someone was coming.

A group of guards rounded the corner, a tall woman in revealing leathers giving them orders from the back.

"What are you so scared of, mmmm~?" The woman—Ace thought he had seen her before; maybe her name started with an S?—licked her lips. "He's only got one more stop."

They made their way closer, and it took Ace a moment to realize the group was clustered around something in the center. Another moment, and he could make out that center as a figure being dragged along the ground. At S-lady's order, they halted in front of a cell only a few yards away from Ace's own. The guards entered the cell and returned dragging out a man in shredded prisoner's garb.

"He's been tortured." Jimbe said, and Ace had to agree. The uniform wasn't the only thing shredded. Blood oozed from wounds slashed across the man's arms and legs. The torture had gone too far—it was easy to see the man would be dead if left untreated.

"Mmmm~ He wasn't sentenced to death, but I was too hard on him. Heal him." S-lady commanded, but rather than _guards_ rushing to bandage the man, the prisoner in the center was pushed forward.

The poor bastard was far worse than the man he was supposed to help. His choked breaths diagnosed a broken ribcage, a gaping bite wound had torn open his side, and his back looked like he had slid down a hill of broken glass. A dozen other wounds littered his body, and Ace would bet his shaking arms were at the very least fractured if not fully broken.

"I told you. I don't heal."

As the woman's whip came down, Ace choked back a groan. Of _course_ he had to know him. Of _course_ it couldn't be a perfect stranger. Ace knew that voice, rough and clogged as it was by blood and pain. It was the same biting, sarcastic lilt that greeted him each morning.

Ace's fist clenched as the whip cracked a final time against Potter's back. This time, when S-lady gave the order, Potter reached towards the other prisoner without complaint. What was he supposed to do?

"**Switch.**" Even whispered, Potter's command echoed through the cell block. The other prisoner gasped, and Ace could see why. One by one, the slashes on the other man's body faded, the skin knitting itself together once more. In seconds, the wounds disappeared completely.

Amazed by the spectacle, Ace nearly missed Potter's small gasp.

He didn't miss Potter crumpling to the ground.

Thinking back on the moment later, Ace would describe it as a horrific mirror of the "healing," twisting time and switching bodies in the way only Devil Fruits could. One by one, scratches appeared on Potter's limbs, lengthening and deepening at an alarming pace. In seconds, the slashes had opened up into dire wounds, and blood seeped sluggishly from them, as if they were conscious that Potter didn't have much left to spare. Ace couldn't be sure, but—screw it. Of course he could be sure. It was painfully obvious what the devil fruit power had done: Potter's wounds were a perfect match to the ones he had just healed. "Switch" indeed. The source of Potter's other injuries was clear.

Despite his visible weakness, the guards had Potter back in their cell and secured by seastone as quickly as their little marine hands could manage. Only S-Lady didn't seem to fear the dying man, leering at him from outside the bars.

"Not so quick to regenerate now, mmmm~?" Ace wanted to punch that look off her face. "Age is catching up to you, Potter. Mmmm~ Better not use your powers without permission again, or you might not last our next playdate."

Ace was glad to see Potter at least had the strength to flip the woman off, and she retreated in a huff. With everyone gone, the cell block returned to its normal silence, punctuating only by Potter's rattling breaths. Up close, the man looked even worse.

"Hey, Potter." Potter didn't reply, but Ace thought his head might have shifted in his direction. "You planning to kick the bucket?"

He could have phrased that better, and Jimbe shot him a look, but Potter flipped him off. Mission accomplished. If he had the energy to be an ass, he had the energy to stay alive. Onto phase two. He hated phase two.

"This isn't—you weren't—" Ace stuttered. Damn the lazy ass for filling his head with guilty, grateful suspicions, "Did this happen because I contacted Pops?"

Bleary green eyes blinked up at him from beneath blood-clotted bangs, "Thank—" Potter broke into a stream of coughs that left him curled into a ball, "Thank Merlin, no." Pause. Shaking breath, "That would have been worse. All they know is I used my powers." Note to self: don't let Potter laugh. The wheezing was just too pitiful, "Your conversation with Whitebeard is safe, if that's what you were wondering."

"You think I care about that?"

"You should. Otherwise what was all that planning for?"

"It—Gah! You know that's not what I meant!"

"Ace." Jimbe nodded to Potter, "He needs rest."

On one hand, Ace could see Jimbe was right; Potter was practically shaking with exhaustion, which could not have been good for his injuries. On the other hand, Ace knew a bit of first aid after sailing with a man constantly surrounded by nurses.

"You sure he's alright to sleep? What if he has a concussion?"

"I do." Potter huffed and closed his eyes, "Goodnight."

With those words, the tension dropped from Potter's body. It took a few seconds of straining on Ace's part to spot if Potter was still breathing. Was this what Ace looked like when his narcolepsy hit?

"Jimbe…" There were differences between Ace falling asleep and Potter passing out; the most visible being the growing red stain spreading from Potter's body. "They said he could regenerate…" But Ace wasn't sure if even Marco, with his phoenix regeneration, could take such a beating. The prison bastards hadn't bothered to give him any treatment, and without bandages the blood wouldn't stop and Ace could do nothing to help.

"He'll be fine." Jimbe's eyes were glued to Potter's face. The fishman was tense, but not in the 'there's a dying man on the floor' tense; it was the same tension the guards displayed around Potter, yet lacking their fear. "Magician Potter" Jimbe had called him, Ace remembered.

"What do you know about Potter?"


	6. Captain

**Day 7: History**

Potter's wounds had stopped bleeding by the time Jimbe was ready to speak. He explained to Ace that he had learned about Potter a long time ago, when he had become a Warlord, and would need time to remember everything he had discovered. Ace had a hard enough time wrapping his head around the idea that all new Warlords and admirals were _briefed_ on _Potter_ that he started when Jimbe finally spoke.

"Pale skin no matter its time in the sun, black hair wild and untamed, and green eyes that see through a man to his soul; a lone traveler who sows chaos on every island he touches. This is the government's description of the legendary Magician, now hesitantly labelled as 'Potter'."

"…That's it?" Ace asked. "What's he actually done? 'Sows chaos' is a bit vague, Jimbe."

Jimbe nodded, "Vague in the extreme. The government can't say for certain where the Magician came from, who he is, or how he does what he does. Yes, they suspect Devil Fruit and Haki, but not even those powers can explain all the events tied to him. So they call him the Magician, the man who uses magic.

"The government regards the Magicians as a family—how else could they rationalize a man of the same description being tied to events centuries apart?" He chuckled, and Ace might have thought it was funny too, if he hadn't already known that is was Potter (singular) who had lived for all that time. "The real problem for the world government stemmed from the dangerous trend of Magicians helping the tribe of D. The most recent Magician—Potter—was once a feared pirate all over the seas, but by the marines more than the people. He never had a crew of his own, instead hitching rides from merchants and pirates alike as he traveled. Because this, his pirate status was tentative at best. They never knew why he wandered, or what he was searching for, but they say Roger came the closest to finding out."

"Roger?!"

There was a grumble from Potter, something that might have been "shitty kid."

"Potter?" Ace tried.

No response. Sleep talking?

"Anyway," Ace turned back to Jimbe, "Roger?"

"Roger." Jimbe confirmed. "After years of eluding Marine surveillance, sightings of Potter with the Pirate King started becoming a regular occurrence. There was a panic that Potter would continue the trend of his family and help Roger overthrown the government, mounting when their offer to make Potter a Warlord was turned down. Their worries were unfounded. Potter was imprisoned and Roger executed before anything disastrous became of their friendship."

Ace stared at the wounded figure on the floor. Some of the injuries had faded, healing at a miraculous pace, but the majority remained. It was hard to believe the man he had shared a cell with for the past week had once terrified Celestial Dragons and sailed the seas with the Pirate King.

"How'd they catch him?"

A new voice answered, "They didn't." Ace's head whipped around to one of the neighboring cells. Crocodile. The former Warlord looked inordinately smug in his prison jumpsuit. Not for the first time, Ace wondered why the some prisoners were allowed cigars. "The coward couldn't handle being a pirate and turned himself in."

"Shut up! How would you know?" And maybe Potter didn't really seem the pirate type, but that didn't mean Ace was going to let Crocodile talk smack about him while the man was unconscious.

"Ace. He's right." Jimbe admitted, and while Ace tried to process that information, he continued, "He showed up at the gates of Impel Down nearly 30 years ago and asked for imprisonment."

"After all that he just turned his back on the world?" Ace asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"Family line had to turn out a dud eventually, right?" Crocodile suggested, "More likely, he realized whatever 'magic' he used couldn't save him on the Grand Line."

Was it just him, or was Crocodile's face asking to get punched? No wonder Luffy beat the crap out of him. "I thought I told you to shut up."

The sand logia shrugged in a "what can you do" gesture but stayed silent.

Jimbe glared at Crocodile. "No one knows. Everyone was on their guard for years, but he's never made a move. Some think he foresaw Roger's death and gave up on the pirate life."

"Waiting." Rough and rumbling, Potter's voice made Ace turn to stare at the other inmate. Potter locked his glazed eyes with Ace's own, his drooping lids promising the man was only moments away from another bout of unconsciousness. "Never gave up. Just waiting."

Ace glanced around the cell, "Picked an interesting place for it."

For once, Potter didn't jump to a sarcastic reply, "Had to wait." His eyes were closed again, and it was likely the man was more asleep than awake.

"For what?" Jimbe asked, and Ace nearly answered himself ("A sign," he had asked Potter the same question before, after all). But it seemed Potter was delirious enough to spill more information.

Potter coughed, curling further into himself. "The Captain."

* * *

**Day 8: Luffy**

"What do you want."

Boa Hancock frowned at Ace's dismissive tone, but she swallowed her displeasure. "I wanted to see the cause of the war I am to fight in." There was radio static from the group of jailers behind her, panicked voices and garbled commands drawing the warden's attention away from the cell. In that moment, Hancock slipped as close as she dared to the bars and stared directly into Ace's eyes. "Luffy is here to rescue you."

Ace jerked out of his slump against the wall. He began to demand information all in one breath—how that was possible, when was it happening, how the hell would she know, and, most importantly, was his little brother _insane?_ He knew the answer to the last one, but it was always therapeutic to ask.

"Let's give the lady room to talk." Magellan suggested, turning back to the cell seconds after Hancock pulled away from the bars.

"There is no need." Hancock said. "We're done here."

Ace's hands curled into fists. _Luffy, don't come here!_

She wasn't lying. He knew that look, the same one he had seen on the faces of the Straw Hat crew. Luffy had pulled someone else into his inexplicable gravity. Ace bit his lip as the other inmates complained and begged Hancock to stay, forcing himself to stay silent as Magellan sent waves of poison into the neighboring cells. Ace's eyes followed the poison fruit user until the Pirate Empress's escort left the cell block. The warden was not someone to be taken lightly. If Luffy really was here he would have to go up against him, and no matter how strong his brother had gotten, Ace knew it wouldn't be enough to take Magellan down.

"What did she tell you?" Asked Jimbe.

With the screams of the dying prisoners echoing down the corridor, Ace knew he wouldn't be overheard, "My little brother's here."

Jimbe considered that for a moment. "She could be lying."

But Ace was already shaking his head, "She wouldn't come all this way just to lie." He craned his neck around to see the new guards stationed around the cell. Their presence in itself was a sign that _something_ was happening.

"Hey, tell me the truth. Is my brother here?" The guards stared resolutely ahead without so much as a glance in the cell's direction. "Hey."

Nothing.

"Say something."

Nothing.

"They won't talk." Jimbe said. "I don't know your brother, but I don't know of anyone capable of breaking through to the sixth level of Impel Down."

"Then you haven't met Luffy." It was…nice, being able to tell someone about his little brother. Despite their good humor, he knew other Whitebeard pirates had grown tired of his constant bragging and stories, so he had been holding back unless something special happened. His brothers tended to avoid Ace's cabin any time new wanted posters came out just in case Luffy's bounty had gone up. Thatch had always humored him, though…and now he had Jimbe, a literal captive audience. The fisherman let him talk and ramble, occasionally raising an eyebrow or letting out a low chuckle, and the atmosphere in the cell seemed to lighten as the hours passed. Maybe he should have opened up to Potter about Luffy earlier, but he had known Jimbe for so much longer.

_Boom!_

A muffled explosion from far, far above rumbled through the cell walls, shaking loose particles of dust from the ceiling. That…was not normal, and if it wasn't normal…

"Hey! What's going on!" Ace pulled against his chains, and though the guards stiffened at his voice, they soon became too preoccupied by their suddenly ringing transponder snail to answer. Ace caught whispers of 'escaped,' 'prisoners,' and 'riot,' but nothing concrete enough to know for sure his brother was on his way. The only way he could know that would be if… "Potter. Hey, Potter, wake up."

Jimbe frowned, "Ace, what are you—"

"Potter can do that water thing again. I need to know what's happening."

The fish-man's frown deepened, "You would ask that of him, barely recovered as he is from the punishment when he last attempted such a thing?" It was true; broken bones had corrected themselves overnight, and the lacerations had shrunk into scratches, but there was an aura of _rawness_ around Potter which testified to Potter's less than peak condition.

"I know it's selfish, but—"

"Magellan is not likely to forgive another act of defiance so soon."

"—But I _need to know if Luffy's safe!" _He didn't know when he had become so worked up, but his chest was heaving with exertion. Ace forced himself to calm down. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Yelling wouldn't help anyone right now. "Jimbe, Luffy _can't_ be here, which is exactly why he _will be_, and if I sit here, doing nothing, while another brother is taken from me, I—" Ace dropped his head, unable to meet Jimbe's eyes. "I'm not sure what I'd do. There'd be nothing left."

Jimbe sat in silence, taking in Ace's slumped posture in his chains. The fish-man finally nodded. "I will not stop you."

"You act like you could." Ace and Jimbe started at the unexpected sound. Potter's voice was rough and weak from thirst and pain, and the man pushed himself upright with shaking limbs, but his eyes, ringed in deeper circles of weariness than Ace had seen on anyone, were fixed on Ace's face. "I'll do what I can."

Ace nodded, unable to say a simple thanks in the face of the sudden swell of gratitude and relief. Thanks were unneeded anyways, as Potter pulled himself towards the nearest puddle and began to work.

"Full name?"

"Monkey D. Luffy."

The hands that hovered above the water trembled, but Potter didn't show any hesitation as he whispered the same foreign words as the last time under his breath. An image began forming on the water, a blurred view of red that resolved into flames.

"Level four. Burning Hell." Potter panned the surroundings, but there was no sign of Luffy. That was a good thing, right? "He was here recently."

Something heavy settled deep in Ace's chest, a knot of worry and anger and fear that his little brother had been stupid enough to come after him. "If he's not here, does that mean…?"

Potter shook his head. "There's more to the trail." Even as he spoke the view sunk through the floor of the fourth level, and soon flames were replaced by the grey chill of Freezing Hell. Potter pinched the air, and the image zoomed towards the ground, passing through twisted pine trees and prowling wolves until it reached the snow beneath.

The churned, bloody snow.

"Luffy…"

There must have been something in his voice that hinted at Ace's growing panic, because Potter glanced up at him before offering, "I'm still following something."

And he was, the water rippling for a moment before following the crimson trail. Scuffled footsteps, a larger splatter of blood, and then twin furrows in the snow—Ace knew enough about tracking to tell when something was being dragged. The trail wound around the woods until reaching the base of a large pine. Hidden behind a boulder pressed against the trunk, a dark hole—no, a dark _tunnel _led downward.

"Here we go." Potter took a shaky breath, ignoring the growing sheen of sweat on his brow, and pushed the image through the ground. "We're getting close."

"How can you tell—What the hell?!"

A mass of bouncing blue curls filled their view.

"Is that your brother?" Jimbe asked.

"_Hell_ no." Ace flashed an incredulous look on the fish-man before turning back to the puddle, "Potter, what's going on?"

Potter frowned, "I don't—wait…" He paused, squinted at the water, and then snapped his fingers. Instantly, the sound of raunchy music and distant conversation filled the cell. "Iva?"

The curls jerked and swung around, revealing that the enormous mass of hair rested on an equally enormous head. The most extreme eyeliner-mascara combo Ace had seen warred for dominance with the purple-painted square lips and the arrow-shaped chin on the gigantic face. The…man?…in the image frowned, obviously trying to figure out what was happening.

"Who…" The gaudy eyes widened, nearly popping out of their sockets. "Potter?!"

All background music and conversation screeched to a halt, and there was a mass cry of, "Potter-san?!" That rang through the water accompanied by several cries of "Where?" and one "We're _all_ going to _die!"_

Ace couldn't see anything beyond the huge face, but it didn't sound like anywhere within the prison. Was this a guard station? Ace dismissed that thought after only a moment's consideration—the navy would never allow the dress code of the man(?) in the image.

"Nice to see you again too." Potter deadpanned. "I'm looking for someone by the name of Monkey D. Luffy. Seen him?"

"Monkey D…Oh, you mean Straw Hat boy? Yes, I have him here with my other candies."

Ace surged forward, "Luffy? Where is he? Is he alright? Where are you, I'm coming up there—"

"Oooh, is that Fire Fist boy?"

"Ace. Calm down." Jimbe's voice washed over him. Momentarily snapped out of his worry, Ace could feel the sea stone digging into his raw wrists, the weight of the chains holding him back. He couldn't reach Luffy now. He could only listen and hope, and one of those things required being quiet enough to hear 'Iva' speak.

"—aven't shown this much interest in years, Potter. Why now?" The conversation had gone on without him, and Iva's face had grown serious.

"That's not important. Do you have him or not?"

"Straw Hat boy's here, but he might not last much longer. I'm using my healing hormones, so whether or not he survives Magellan's poison is up to the strength of his will to live."

His will to live? The knot in Ace's chest loosened at the words. If anyone could survive by the strength of his will alone, it would be Luffy. Death wasn't even an option. His little brother would survive.

Ace looked up to find the others watching him. Jimbe was as stoic as ever. A slight smile tugged at Potter's lips, the first one to breach the dark barriers of sleepless nights and reach his eyes. "Do you have a message for your brother?"

"Hey, I never agreed to that!"

"Shut it, Iva."

Ace swallowed. What was he supposed to say in this situation? 'Get out'? 'Leave me and run the hell away'? 'You're an idiot and I love you'? But in the end the words spilled out with a mind of their own, "Alright then. 'Luffy, show me how strong you've become. I'm waiting'."

Potter nodded and turned back to the pool, "Got that, Iva?" The okama grumbled something about pirates not doing things from the goodness of their hearts but more or less agreed to pass on the message.

"Thanks." Water splashed across the floor as Potter slapped the puddle's surface to dispel his ability. Potter shook his head as if to clear it and turned back to Ace and Jimbe. "Sorry. That's all I can do for now."

Ace did his best approximation of a bow with his arms chained above his head, "You did what you could. I can't ask any—Potter?"

Potter slummed to the ground with a clattering of sea stone chains, eyes rolled back and clearly unconscious. He hadn't managed to make it even a foot away from the puddle before succumbing to exhaustion.

"Potter, you better not be dying." No response. "Potter?" Nothing. "Potter!"

"Ace, he needs to rest. The scrying must have taken more energy than he had to give." The voice of reason as always, Jimbe was there to quiet Ace down. "You owe that man a great debt."

Yes, he did. Ace could only hope he would have the chance to repay it.

~~~v~~~

"You awake yet?" It was the fifth time Ace asked since Potter had begun shifting in his sleep, and this time the man's eyes fluttered open.

Potter swept his gaze around the cell before settling blearily on Ace, "Would you believe me if I said no?" Ace huffed in amusement, and Potter rolled his eyes before using the wall to prop himself upright.

"Has your energy returned?" Jimbe asked.

"Enough." Potter groaned, massaging his temples with one hand. "Remind me to never do that again. I always forget about the migraines." He sighed and stopped the massage. "How long have I been out?"

Before Ace could answer, the sound of footsteps began echoing through the cell block. A group of people, silent except for their boots against the stone. Serious, then. Not a good sign for any of them. The three inmates shared a look. Had the guards reported what Potter had done, or was it time for Ace's…Ace's…

A company of guards rounded the corner into their hall, Magellan towering over them with a more serious, brooding expression than Ace had seen from him. The warden marched up to the cell, "It is time for Portgas to be moved. Resistance is futile."

The guards moved to open the cell door, but a raised hand from Magellan brought them to a halt. The warden stepped closer, eyes locked with Potter's defiant gaze. "Nearly three decades of imprisonment, Potter. Three decades and only six accounts of bad behavior—three in the last week alone. Is there a reason Portgas has your sympathies?"

They knew. The knot was back again, and this time Ace could feel guilt adding a new layer to the mass. It would be his fault if anything happened. Potter said nothing, the only sign of recognition being a slight tightening around his eyes.

Magellan sighed, "No matter. We cannot allow even the chance that you will attempt to help him escape." Before anyone could react, the warden flicked his fingers at Potter, sending a glob of poison arching through the air to land on the bare skin over the man's heart.

Potter blinked down at the sizzling droplet, "What did you—" the rest of the question was cut short as Potter released a strangled gasp. Muscles tensing into clear definition, Potter curled in on himself as much as the manacles would allow, mouth opened in a silent scream.

"Potter! Potter, look at me!" Ace screamed to get Potter's attention, but though the man's eyes were wider than Ace had ever seen, they were focused on nothing but blinding pain. He swung around to face the warden, fists clenching as he growled. "_Bastard._ What did you give him?!"

It couldn't be the poison used on the other prisoners when Hancock was there. No, it couldn't be because they had died slowly, painfully, and Potter wasn't going to die. He wasn't that weak. Ace wouldn't allow him to die just for helping him.

"My most potent neurotoxin." The fire in Ace's blood chilled at Magellan's words. "Headquarters desires your execution more than keeping around a possible loose cannon."

The warden said something more, something about regenerative ability and impossible antidotes, but Ace wasn't listening—couldn't _hear_ it—beyond the low keening fighting its way past Potter's increasingly frantic breaths. Shit. The man hadn't complained, not a word, after getting beat within an inch of his life. Now there were tears, actual _tears_, leaking from Potter's eyes.

Damn his sea stone chains! If Ace had his devil fruit powers the seas around Impel Down would be boiling with his rage. Instead, he could do nothing but protest as he was dragged from his cell, away from a suffering—no, not dying not dying—Potter, and down the corridor.

"Jimbe!" The fishman looked up at his yell, "Don't let him die!"

Ace was shoved around a corner before he could get a response, and he never saw their cell again.


	7. Switch

**Day 9: Switch**

A sea of ice. A hail of fire. Explosions. Blood. Battle. Pirates. Marines. Swords. Fists. Death death death death death—

The world had gone to hell, and Ace had dragged his brothers into the thick of it.

"AAAAAAAACCCCEE!" How many heart attacks could Ace have in one day? The universe seemed intent on finding out, because Luffy, his adorable disaster of a little brother, was currently falling from the sky into the center of Marineford. How the rubber monkey had managed that was anyone's guess, but he had brought with him an entire shipload of prisoners.

The new pirates joined the fight as soon as they hit the ground, but even their numbers could hardly change the tides of the battle. They were soon swallowed in individual fights, swords and fists and devil fruit powers flying with abandon. Whereas before, the Whitebeard division commanders had stood out from the chaos, Luffy was now the easiest to see. He charged straight for the execution scaffold, plowing through anyone in his way. Even from there, Ace could feel Luffy's eyes locked on him.

_Splash!_ And there was Jimbe, making his own waves in the crowd. Luffy must have made it down to Level 6 after all. But if Jimbe was here, did that mean Potter was—?

But Ace didn't have time to think—_worry_—about Potter, because Squard stabbed Pops. _Stabbed Pops._ And now he was spouting some nonsense about Pops betraying them to the Navy? Pops had _never_ cared about Ace's past, had brushed off the fact that he was Roger's son as easily as one would report of rough weather on the Grand Line; as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Pops proved himself true, opening up a path for anyone to escape from the battle, but something caught in Ace's mind. Pops could have dodged Squard. He could have dodged him, and that wound would not heal easily, not with Pop's long list of health concerns. He could have proved his point about the betrayal without taking the hit, and yet he had. Why would he take it?

_He doesn't plan to survive this battle_. Ace flung the thought from his mind. Pops would not die today, not for him. For once, the universe seemed to agree.

"**Switch**." Cold and calm, the command echoed through Marineford. Jaws dropped on both sides as Whitebeard's wound seemed to melt away. Pops himself looked down with some surprise. Ace's eyes flicked over the battlefield: marine, marine, pirate, dead marine, Jimbe, pirate…_there!_

Potter staggered but refused to fall, a sword wound bleeding into existence over the brand on his chest. Around him, a circle of marines lay on the ground, likely dispatched by the gleaming silver sword held casually at Potter's side. He wasn't dead. He wasn't lying chained at the bottom of Impel Down.

"You." Whitebeard had also found Potter, and the curious note to his voice had the rest of the plaza turning to look at the swaying figure.

"I said I owed you." Potter reminded Pops with a savage smile, blood staining his teeth. He gestured his sword towards Ace, "Now are we going to rescue the kid or what?"

Whitebeard returned the smile and leapt from the ship with a roar, "Let's go! Clear the path to Ace!"

And with that, the world descended back into hell.

"Garp." That was Sengoku, shifting with a nervousness new to Ace. "Is that really him?"

Garp didn't answer, and when both Ace and Sengoku turned to look, his shoulders were shaking.

"Garp?"

The old marine couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing, "We should just go home." He suggested between guffaws, "If old man Potter's taken the field, we're not going to win this one."

"Garp, if you're planning anything—"

"I'm here, aren't I? I'll see this through." Garp shook his head ruefully, gesturing at the battle, "Not sure what you expect me to do against _that._"

Three areas of combat stood apart from the rest of the field, drawing in combatants and spitting them out again as the warriors inside charged the shield wall. There was Luffy of course, fists flying and bullets ricocheting from his rubber body. Not too far from his little brother, Whitebeard lead the charge of pirates towards the gap Oars had created in the shield wall. His attacks shook the very earth, reminding the navy exactly why he was named the Strongest Man in the World. On the opposite side of the shield wall from Whitebeard's charge, a single man was pushing through the tide of marines to reach the wall.

"**Switch**." A dozen marines found pebbles replacing their swords.

"**Switch**." The wound in Potter's chest disappeared only to be reflected on the bodies of his newest challengers, dropping them like stones.

"**Switch**." Two devil fruit users attempting to sneak up on the magician cried out in panic as their powers vanished, and two marines floating in the water mysteriously lost their ability to swim.

Those who made it past Potter's powers were faced with an expert swordsman. Potter flicked his blade in lightning attacks, slicing past the enemy with an ease that shouldn't have been able to come from a man who spent decades in chains. Ace could see it then. Every word, every step, every slice—they all pointed to one thing, to what Potter really was:

Pirate.

"He's committed, Sengoku." Garp said, "Not even Roger dared stop him when he went all in."

Ace didn't doubt it. Not after Potter blasted a new hole in the shield wall with a word. Not after a flick of his wrist switched Marco with Aikanu when the admiral went to attack Pops. Not after a brief duel with Hawkeye ended with the world's best swordsman (temporarily) backing down. Power rolled off of Potter—the pressure of Haki full of twists and swirls that made it something only Potter could control. He strode towards the execution platform with a smile on his lips and a promise in his steps. Potter had played his hand, and nothing would stand in his way.

"Ace!" And then Luffy's in front of him. The key he brought brakes, but the little monkey's luck is better than any technology the marines could dream of, and an ally with a useful devil fruit is somehow on hand to replicate the key. The scaffold is smashed, they're all falling, the world's burning, but when the the key turns, Ace feels it in his bones.

_Click!_

Strength floods into his body, and his limbs spark and flicker as the embers of his powers are returned to the inferno that is Portgas D. Ace. Potter might be invincible, but Ace and Luffy, side by side against the world? They're unstoppable.

~o.0.o~

Ace was an idiot. Such a damn idiot.

And he'd never been so grateful.

Any sliver of regret he might have held by turning to face Aikanu and defend Pop's honor had vanished, completely and utterly. Because the bastard marine might have attacked Luffy, but Ace stopped him. Magma seared itself in and through Ace's chest, but Luffy was alright. Ace would die, but Luffy would live.

"A-ace?"

It's hard to focus on Luffy's wavering form, and it took Ace far too long to realize he was the one swaying. "Luffy… Pops…" His voice was too quiet to reach his brothers, but he couldn't summon the strength for more than a whisper, couldn't push past the fire that consumed his senses. Ace wanted to laugh—it seemed he would live and die in flames. "I want you to know…"

But didn't they know already? Ace wasn't one for subtlety—never had been, never would be. Luffy, Pops, and his brothers…they loved him. They really did. And living a life without regrets meant Ace had dedicated every waking moment to thanking them. He didn't need to say it now.

Ace's vision was fading, but he could still feel Luffy's arms wrap around him, tentative at first but soon gripping with all the little captain's strength. People were screaming around them, and whatever's left of Ace's stomach sank when he felt heat building up behind him, when he realized that blocking one attack hadn't stopped Aikanu.

"**Protego**." Potter's voice came an instant before a tremendous _SLAM_ reverberated across the battlefield, and Aikanu's heat dispersed. The sensation of strange haki swirled around Ace, and he knew Potter was standing behind him, in-between them and Aikanu, despite the impossibility of Potter being across the Marineford only moments before.

"The _Magician_." Aikanu's voice oozed with anger and disdain. "Do you really think _tricks_ will save the son from the same fate as the father?"

Potter's haki spiked, a sensation of rage distilled into raw power.

"**Go**."

Aikanu vanished without a word. Haki, heat—_every_ sign of his presence was gone.

_Potter_… Ace's brothers knew his gratefulness, but he had just met Potter, had barely had a chance to thank him for contacting Pops before everything went to shit. Ace needed to tell him, but even his senses were going now. The world was fading with only flares of familiar haki distantly reminding Ace he was still alive.

Potter's haki was the closest, far stronger than any of the others. Despite it all, Ace could barely hold onto the sensation, could barely sense when rage transformed into resolve.

"**Switch**."

Ace couldn't help the small scream as the world crashed back into his senses. Sight, sound, aura, touch, taste, smell—all of it returned in an instant of blind, white confusion. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. Copper coated his tongue. Explosions and screams tore at his ears. Shards of the shattered containment wall ground against his legs. And his eyes watched Potter stagger and fall.

There was a hole in his chest.

"Potter!" Ace fought against Luffy's arms, vaguely registering his own lack of pain (lack of a damn freaking _hole_ in his chest!). "Luffy, I'm fine! I'm fine!"

His little brother didn't let go, so Ace dragged him over to where Potter was gasping on the ground. Had Ace really looked this bad? Blood and gore bubbled from the dinner-plate sized hole, covering what little of the Hallows hadn't been destroyed or burned away. The man's eyes were screwed shut in pain, but he wasn't dead yet. He wasn't dead yet, and that meant Ace could fix this.

"Potter, hey, Potter, can you hear me?" Ace gently nudged the side of Potter's face, and tired eyes forced themselves open. "Tell me what I need to do." Potter would know. He had to. "Can you use your powers to switch with someone else? What about your regeneration? Can we speed that up, or—"

Potter was shaking his head. "Too late. Ace, there's nothing you can—"

"Don't call me that." Ace's fists shook from the effort of holding back his fury. He needed to punch someone, anyone, even Potter—but no, not Potter because that's what started this in the first place: Aikanu had punched a great damn _hole_ through Potter's chest.

"Ace–"

"Don't go getting formal on me now, Potter. I'm just a kid, remember?" He was going to lose it if he heard his name again. Too many of his friends—his brothers—_Luffy_—had fought and died with that name on their lips today. From Potter it was too much like goodbye.

"_Kid_." Potter's hand squeezed Ace's arm. "I threw in my cards."

_No no no no_, "But what about the sign?" Ace was scrambling now, grasping at anything to motivate Potter into saving himself. "What about the captain you're looking for?"

Potter's eyes flicked to Ace's shoulder where Luffy watched, confused but anxious, "I found him." Potter coughed, his grip on Ace's arm faltering and then releasing altogether as the strength drained out of him with each hacking breath.

"Potter!"

Potter's eyes met his one last time, "…thank you." But his final words were in his eyes: _I'm sorry_.

And Potter was gone.

~o.0.o~

As the last spark of life left Potter's eyes, a chill wind swept over the battlefield. Pirates and Marines alike shivered as the sensation passed over them. From far out at sea, a rumbling moan joined the hissing air, as if a thousand underwater voice were crying out in grief. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the body in Fire Fist's arms, all filled with the inexplicable sense that something momentous had occurred.

"…What are we waiting for?!" A Marine shook himself out of the daze. He gestured towards Ace with his cutlas, "Get them!"

"If you value your lives…" Shanks and his crew had slipped into Marineford unnoticed, but now they surrounded the two brothers and the dead Potter, weapons trained on anything that dared move closer. "…you won't take another step."

Marines all over the battlefield hesitated, one foot half-raised.

"There's been enough pointless bloodshed already." Shanks stood tall in front of Ace, blocking him from view. "We will leave, and you will let us, and we will all care for our wounded before they are beyond our aid." His words left no room for argument.

From across Marineford, Sengoku sighed deeply before meeting Shank's gaze with a firm nod.

"Marines. Stand down."

With a slithering _chink_, Shanks sheathed his sword and knelt beside Ace. Calloused fingers gently removed Potter's body from Ace's grasp and scooped the fallen magician into the crook of the captain's remaining arm.

"You should leave while you can, Fire Fist."

Ace knew that. His body didn't.

"The little monkey needs caring for."

As if they were magic words, Luffy slumped to the ground, and Ace was able to look past the bouncy ball of adrenaline to the body beneath for the first time that day. "Shit." His baby brother was beaten half to hell. Burns crossed his chest, residual damage from Aikanu, and the occasional spasm of muscles pushed beyond their limit jolted through Luffy's limbs. Ace scooped him into his arms and began looked for—

"Over here!" A far away voice from a far away figure standing on the deck of yellow submarine. On any other day Ace would have ignore the call, but—

"I'm a doctor!"

Ace ran.


End file.
